It’s Kyle’s birthday today. I’m not going to tell you how old he is, because I think that he’s feeling a little weird about that, and if the 21st century has taught us anything, it’s that there’s nothing weirdmaking that can’t be made even more weirdmaking by being broadcast on the Internet. So.

Emilia got him sticks for his birthday. She put a lot of thought and planning into that, and it’s important to realize – as she explained at some length this morning when she presented them, with great fanfare, which is to say, wrapped in ribbons and pulled with a flourish from behind her back – that they aren’t actually sticks, but tools. “Car tools,” she explained. “For your car.”

The largest stick is a tire tool. “It’s for when you want to get new wheels for your car,” she said, waving it in a circular motion above her head, presumably to illustrate the concept of ‘wheels.’ “You just poke your tires with it like this” – jab jab jab – “and you make a hole and then you get to have new ones.” The three smaller tools, she explained, were simpler instruments: “you use them to scrape the paint from your car” – she held it horizontally, gripped in both hands – “for when you want to get the paint off so it can be painted a different color.”

Kyle, needless to say, was moved and proud: his daughter invented a portable kit for car vandals in his honor, which really is every father’s dream.

“I’m going to keep this always.”

“You’d better keep it in your car, Daddy. But maybe I should help you with your tires, first.”

Her future’s so bright, we gotta wear shades – and carry lots of bail money.